Until the End
by padawanjinx
Summary: Captured by a maniac and sold separately for genetic experimentation, can Michelangelo's brothers prevent the unthinkable? Or will they suffer a fate worse than death?


**Until the End**

Rating: T

Warning: Depictions of extreme violence and mentions of sexual situations.

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Mikey groaned, rolling his head from side to side to ward off the deep sleep that had overcome him. He couldn't remember falling asleep, or what had caused him to nod off. It was difficult for him to calm his mind and find rest. His mind, like the rest of him, was always active. Always in motion. Always alert. When exhaustion became too much he would shut down and finally find the rest he so desperately needed.

It wasn't unusual for him to wake up in a place other than his bed. The couch, chairs, kitchen table, meditation mats in the dojo, his brothers, all were suitable places where Mikey had fallen asleep.

But the chill surrounding him wasn't familiar. The cold not only cradled his head, but his entire body. It seeped into his skin and settled in his bones, making it painful to move. His shell was a block of ice, drawing out his body heat.

Not even falling asleep in the treatment room while Donnie monitored injuries could Mikey recall being so cold. Vaguely he wondered if he fell asleep on an iceberg, but even that would feel warm compared to the chill inhabiting Mikey's senses.

Groggily he blinked away the sleep that had claimed him and became aware of his surroundings. Brilliant light flooded his eyes, causing them to water, blurring his vision. Blinking rapidly, he tried to wipe his face, but his arms refused his mental command. They were leaden, dead weights that anchored him into place. And were apparently sustaining his entire weight while he had been unconscious.

Metal rattled on Mikey's wrists and ankles, tossing the last vestiges of sleep from his mind.

Thick metal cuffs encased Mikey's wrists, keeping him immobile, suspended between two metal columns. His ankles were similarly tethered, preventing escape. He could barely move an inch either way, the cuffs unforgivable, digging harshly into his green skin. Blood already creased his wrists from the strain of attempting to break free.

Tubes were inserted into his arm on the right side, taped into place to prevent removal. They reminded him of the time Eric Sacks had taken the turtles hostage with intent to drain their blood. It appeared they were once again under the threat of being bled out for 'research' purposes.

Only this time they weren't encased in glass and there were two wires, one red, one white, attached to the tubing and ran up Mikey's arm. When he glanced down, he found four circular stickers on his plastron where the wires attached. He was also completely naked. As in, not-a-stitch. Even his bandaids and duct tape were gone.

No wonder he was so cold.

Mikey shifted, putting his full weight on his feet to ease the tension from his aching shoulders. He tried to roll them to ward off the dull throb, but with the unforgiving tension on the shackles, he only managed a weak wiggle.

"Ah, finally," a male voice said, drawing Mikey's attention. "About time you woke up."

A man appeared in front of Mikey, middle aged, pale skinned, sunken, gaunt eyes, and stringy grey hair that mingled with the dirty blonde of his fading youth. He wore a white smock with matching white pants. His shoes were hidden by pale blue booties.

"And so the last one wakes up," he said in a cheerfully nefarious tone.

"Who are you, dude?" Mikey asked. He frowned and with the motion, realized the familiar shifting of his mask was absent. "Oh, Man," he muttered, now feeling totally naked.

"Mikey?" Leo's voice echoed from somewhere in the room. From the sound of his voice, he was stationed close by in the same kind of entrapment.

"Mikey, are you okay?" Raph asked.

The width of the metal columns prevented Mikey from seeing his brothers, but from the sounds filtering around the small enclosure, they were trussed up in similar fashion.

"It will be alright, Mikey," Donnie said, trying to assuage not only his brothers, but himself. "Things will be alright. The key is to remain calm and not panic."

The man in white appeared delighted by this declaration. Brows raised, he turned and surveyed the turtle held within his wall-less prison.

"You think so?" he asked in amusement.

"We'll give you what you want," Donnie said, rattling the cuffs to emphasize his words. "You don't have to hurt us. We'll cooperate."

"Oh, my lovely specimen, you'll give me everything I'll ask for and everything I've ever wanted," he said breathlessly, his expression hungry, dangerous.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mikey asked, tugging on the cuff on his right wrist. He hoped to dislodge the tube that was inserted into his arm, but the devices were meant for restraint, and they were implemented well.

The man offered a low hum, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment while he contemplated his answer. Finally, he broke into a bone chilling smile that stole what little warmth there was left in the world.

"My name will go down in history for developing and naming a brand new species. With such recognition I will have my name engraved in the face of time, earning me accolades and a small fortune. Scientists and universities will pay whatever fee I deem fit, to be the prominent speaker at a symposium or teach a class."

"You want to ...catalogue, us?" Donnie asked curiously. "We're ordinary box turtles. Injected with a mutated genome that is synthesized. Not exactly a nature made species. More along the lines of a genetically engineered lab experiment, one that you didn't not have a hand in creating."

"Creative differences," the man said with a wave of his hand. "I can backdate entries to catalogue your development and get the credit for your discovery."

"Won't work," Raph growled, ignoring his bleeding wrists. He continued to twist at his bonds, yearning to break free and get his hands on this vile human. "We're almost twenty. You can't forge documentation back that far. **Real** scientists will know you're full of shit and call you out on your lies."

"I can easily say I didn't use juvenile test subjects," the man gave a lop sided shrug. His potential earnings dominated his thoughts. Nothing or **no one** would keep him from the money and adulation he sought. "You were already mature specimens when I began my experimentation. There is no way to prove otherwise."

"We'll resist," Leo growled, tugging on his restraints. "And we'll tell everyone we see that we were not your experiment. That you're a fraud."

"I have already discussed your ill tempers with your new owners." He smiled at each encased turtle in turn. "They will be here shortly to collect you. Well, three of you. One of you will stay here with me. I have my own research to conduct after all."

"What do you mean, our owners? We don't belong to anyone! We're free! Sentient, independent, self aware beings! We aren't owned!" Leo barked, using the pain in his wrist to fuel his anger. Blood dripped freely from his wrists, but he paid no mind. His focus was sorely on the despicable human intent on selling them off as mindless animals for some stranger's amusement. Or worse.

"You belong to me so I can do with you whatever I see fit." The man strolled from left to right, his eyes raking in the mutated form held in each casement. He left nothing uninspected, taking in each of their height, muscle mass, weight, curiously eying their exposed tails.

"What are you looking at?" Raph snapped, twisting his arms so violently blood ran down his arm and side, creating small puddles on the floor at his feet.

"My, my, what wonderful specimens you are," the man breathed heavily. "I sincerely hope my colleagues are able to mate you. Your offspring would be fascinating."

Mikey whimpered, wanting to tuck into his shell as the man stood in front of him, surveying him with a critical eye. He didn't want to mate, most certainly not with whatever a scientist tried to pair him with. Mikey may tease and flirt with April, but he knew there was no chance they could be together.

Even if she was interested in romance with a turtle, Donnie had already concluded the turtles were incapable of reproduction. The mutagen had not only mutated their bodies, but their sperm as well. They were incompatible with human or turtle, falling somewhere in between but not capable of being genetically compatible to create children. Mikey had teased it would be fun to practice, but now that he was stripped, immobilized, and about to be sold off for mating purposes, he no longer found humor in the situation. Idly he wondered if the person buying him and his brothers would dispose of them once they realized they were sterile.

Not a comforting thought.

"Not interested," Leo snarled defiantly. His anger and need for retribution was as strong as Raph's. If either got loose, the humans wouldn't stand a chance.

There would be a slaughter. No mercy. No regrets. No pulling punches. Simply death and destruction to everyone responsible for this unfathomable outrage.

"You don't need to be interested," the man said, going around the enclosure to view their backs. He offered a noise of appreciation from behind Leo. "Such grand specimens! Perhaps I should ask for more money? You certainly will spawn some interesting children, regardless of what they mate you with."

"We can't mate," Leo gritted, turning his head to see the human, but his shell prevented it. "We're sterile."

"I highly doubt that," the man said, moving on to regard Raph, who growled lowly, body as taut as a bow string with tension. "Merely need to do a few tweaks to your DNA and then figure out what would mate best with you."

Raph sneered, then snarled obscenities when he felt unwanted hands testing his muscles. The human squeezed his biceps, kneaded the scaly flesh along his sides, and much to Raph's bellowing protest, over his hips and reaching down to cup his tail.

"Get your hands off of me you sick bastard!" Raph raged, jerking on the bonds that held him. Blood poured more freely from his wrists and ankles, but they remained secure. The puddles at his feet grew little by little. "Stop touching me! You wait until I'm free, you bastard! I'm going to rip your head off and piss down your throat!"

Shouts and curses rang from the other three turtles out of eyeshot. They rattled their bonds, demanding the human leave Raph alone and pick on one of them. But the scientist paid no mind.

"My, such fire!" the man exclaimed, giving Raph's tail a little squeeze. The girth was so great, he couldn't get his fingers around it. His hollowed eyes shone with darkness. "You're definitely going to be an excellent breeder. That fire! That passion! Those muscles! Some beautiful specimens will be born from you."

"I ain't mating with nothing!" Raph yelled, trying to turn around but he only succeeded in mutilating his wrists and ankles. Spit flew out of his mouth as he attempted to lunge toward the man fondling his tail.

"I shouldn't tell you this, but I have a bet going with my colleagues," the man said in a stage whisper that carried to the other three turtles. He sized Raph up, taking in the muscular build, his head slowly shaking at the raw power and animalistic strength on display. "I'm betting on you to father the strongest specimens. Hopefully in a generation or two, we will gather enough information to create the perfect genetic hybrid."

"I won't mate," Raph reiterated with a threatening growl.

"You can't fight instinct," the scientist chided, releasing Raph and venturing to the next cell, where Donnie was immobilized.

He took his time walking around Donnie, noting the lithe build and much to the scientists delight, Donnie's glasses perched on his short snout.

"And if we lack the instinct to mate?" Donnie asked, eyeing the human with great disgust. "When your friends find out that we are sterile and they are unable to gain the specimens they crave?"

"DNA can be manipulated, as I'm sure you are well aware," the man said, surveying Donnie closely. "Considering your blended biology, I garner it will take nothing for you to be genetically compatible with either turtle or human, if not both, given the proper genetic engineering."

"And these...specimens," Donnie ground out, finding the word bitter on his tongue. "They will be treated to the same kind of ... _hospitality_?"

"Those who survive into adulthood will be mated with each of your offspring," the man said, tilting his head to observe Donnie's reaction. "At least until they no longer have such a function, then they will be dissected and studied."

Donnie felt the color go out of his cheeks. There was always the chance the turtles could suffer such a fate. But the thought of someone forcing them to reproduce sorely for the benefit of dissecting their offspring was enough to turn his stomach. He was a scientist, but this kind of butchery wasn't science.

It was savagery.

Manipulating genetic code to create unwanted or deformed specimens simply to assuage a scientific curiosity was beyond inexcusable to Donnie. He sought truth and the beauty of fact. The abominations this man was extolling was enough to make Donnie think twice about his passion for the sciences.

"You will probably have the most children," the man said, breaking Donnie from his dark thoughts. "I examined your technical equipment when you were brought in here. Fascinating adaptations you made, which I'm assuming you cobbled together yourself. You have the mind of a scientist. Dare I say, the mind of a genius?"

Donnie pursed his lips together. He wasn't going to give this man any more fodder to use against them.

"I'd wager your children would be worth more than the others. They may have the strength that's appealing, but I believe those with a higher intellect will prove the more lucrative endeavor."

Donnie gulped, fear threatening to cut off his air. His active imagination came up with all kinds of terrible scenarios he and his brothers were to endure if they didn't escape this psychopath. And given the rattling of metal coming from Leo and Raph's enclosures, they were nearing an escape. Or self mutilation. No doubt they were suffering injury from the tight bands that held them immobile. Donnie's own wrists were ringed in red, blood oozing down his arms in a thin line.

"I might add the addendum to your contract that I want a few of your children," the man said, tapping his finger on his chin in thought. "If they inherit your intelligence, that could make them a valuable asset."

Donnie shuddered, imagining a smaller version of himself being forced to work on dismembered siblings and cousins in an effort to find the best possible genetic match for sought attributes for upcoming generations.

The man made a soft noise and bypassed Donnie. He took his time examining Mikey, noting the smaller, more compact build. He was definitely strong, but his siblings held the greater height, which made them the more ideal candidates for genetic compatibility.

Eyes narrowed, he took a slow circuit of Mikey, pausing to examine his shell.

"Nice," he breathed, tracing his fingers over the grooves and dents of Mikey's shell. "And that leaves me with you, my glorious specimen. Mine to do with as I wish."

"Wha-what?" Mikey gaped, twisting to see the human. "What do you mean, yours? You can't break us up! We're a team. We stick together. We're a set, man!"

Three other turtles echoed the sentiment, yelling they were to remain together. That they refused to be separated. They refused to cooperate if they were parted. If they were kept together, they would do whatever the scientist asked.

"Make no mistake, I had some exceptional bids," the man said, caressing Mikey's prominent carapace where it joined to his body. Mikey shivered under his fingers. "I figured the smart one and at least one of the big ones would fetch a decent price, but that meant I had two spare in which to conduct my own experiments. Then, one of my cohorts was generous enough to place a last minute bid, preferring one of the larger specimens for his study. Though I would have preferred two of you, I can make due with one."

"We're a team," Mikey said, his voice coming out as a desperate cry. He didn't want to leave his brothers. He didn't want to be separated from them. If they were going to become some sort of laboratory experiment to be abused and dissected, they wanted to so together. Die together.

"Each of you will have excellent labs, I assure you," the man said happily, as if he was unaware of the strife of the turtle held before him. "My friends in the scientific community are the best at everything. Research. Top of the line equipment. Brilliant minds. Flexible ethics. Best selection for compatible mates to generate the most superior specimen."

"Fuck em!" Raph screamed, employing his brute strength to physically move his enclosure.

"I want my brothers," Mikey said softly, wanting nothing more than to run into the embrace of his family.

"Oh dear," the man sighed, noticing Raph's cage had moved on its castors. He stepped off the cage that held Mikey and went to a grey consol in the middle of the room.

The tubes and wires from the turtles looped along the ceiling to drop down to the consol in a thick coil of tubing and knotted wires. Lights blinked, reflecting off the man's immaculate white smock. He touched the consol, smiling and humming to himself as he worked.

"Let's see if we can't get those heart rates to a more normal level and mellow you out, shall we?" he asked his four captives.

There was the sound of four hisses and at once, the turtles felt a coolness enter their blood stream from the tube implanted in their arm. It spread as wildfire, freezing their blood and relaxing their muscles.

Raph continued to rage against the coolness penetrating his brain, but it was a losing battle. His firedied out, arms and legs twitching into relaxation, his head heavy and difficult to hold up. An occasional growl escaped his curled lips, but the anger and fight fled his eyes.

Leo faired no better, dropping lax in his restraints, his arms slick with blood. His breathing slowed, sharp blue eyes dulling listlessly.

Donnie sagged in his restraints, mumbling objections under his breath. He blinked owlishly, trying to remain conscious.

The man stepped away from the consol and grabbed a tall rolling tray, gliding it smoothly across the white tiled floor. He smiled up at Mikey, showing him the tray full of silver instruments. The edges were ultra sharp, pointy, and would make Raph's sais appear dull and filthy by comparison.

"So that leaves me with you," the man said, picking up a scalpel. The silver aquiline edge glinted in the bright light. "You're mine. Though don't feel disappointed you weren't auctioned off with your brothers. I have something fare more special in mind for you."

"I want to go home," Mikey cried softly, eyes fighting to stay focused on the madman in front of him. "Please. Let us go. We won't tell anyone. We'll keep your secret. Just please, let us go home."

"Why would I let you go when you are the pinnacle of my career?" the man asked.

Any further speech was interrupted by a woman, also dressed in white, appeared through the double doors.

"Sir, the transporters has arrived." She studiously ignored the four captives.

"Good, good. Send them in," he said, turning to regard the door.

The woman opened the doors and motioned for those waiting to come inside.

Several men appeared wearing lab coats. They checked over the individual compartments that held the promised specimen. Once sure each was secured, they typed in a command on the consol, dosing the turtles with another powerful sedative to last during transportation.

Donnie hung boneless from his shackles, swaying a little as two of the men in white coats unhooked his cell from the power feed that monitored their vitals. The last connection popped and with ease, they disengaged the brakes on the castors and wheeled Donnie out the door. Leo and Raph soon followed, Raph's eyes glazed and distant, his mouth still slurring expletives for revolt and revenge.

"No, wait," Mikey rasped, his voice weak. "Don't go! Come back." He panted, trying to catch his breath to project his voice to call for his brothers. "Bros, come back. Don't leave me."

Mikey's voice failed, becoming a rattling wheeze. "Come.. come back," his voice was barely a whisper. But it was too late. His brothers were already gone, the doors shut behind them, separating them forever.

"No, no, no," Mikey muttered, trying to think of a way out of this mess but his befuddled mind refused to cooperate. The only thing he wanted to do was sleep. To fall helplessly in the blackness and surrender to its will.

"Well now, let's get started," the scientist said, waving his scalpel intently. "Don't feel disappointed you didn't fetch a high price. I could have gotten quite the haul from you. However, I have always wanted something unique. Befitting of my standing in the field of biology."

"I want my brothers," Mikey whimpered sadly, hoping to appeal to the man's senses and be reunited with his family.

But the scientist didn't care.

"I'm lucky you were left behind," he said, stepping to Mikey and caressing the rim of his shell. "You have the best shell. Much nicer than the others. Bold coloration and distinct pattern to the whorls and grooves of the shell plates. It will look amazing on my wall."

With utmost care he placed the blade to the soft tissue of Mikey's shell and began to slice, separating turtle from shell.

Despite the heavy dose of sedative, Mikey screamed and thrashed, white hot pain erupting everywhere, boiling him from the inside out. His skin ignited, feeling his shell start to pull away from his back, raw and bleeding and gushing...

...

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...

With a blood curdling scream, Michelangelo bolted upright in bed, fighting his blankets violently. He tumbled out of bed still battling the imaginary monster who tried to cut him out of his shell. Panting, he reached around, feeling the hard edge of his shell still on his back with no sign of being cut or otherwise maimed.

Disentangling himself, he wiped the sweat off his face and neck before exiting his room and hurrying to the room down the hall. Without knocking he opened the door, as it was always unlocked, and stepped into the semi-darkness. He bumped into the bed and knelt down, reaching out to prod around for its occupant.

"You awake?" Mikey asked, poking the tender seam of a shell in an attempt to wake its owner.

But Leo was a light sleeper. As soon as the door opened, he was aware of a visitor.

"Go ahead," Leo mumbled, having experienced such a scenario many times in the past.

Mikey rose, climbing over Leo to plant himself between the wall and his big brother.

Leo grunted and shifted, hoping to fall asleep again. Sadly, there was a voice at the door.

"I heard yelling and checked on Mikey," Donnie said softly, peering into the darkness and finding Leo's large shape reposed on the bed. "He's not in his room."

"I'm here," Mikey said, holding up his hand like a periscope over Leo's shell. His voice was small, quavering. "Had a nightmare."

"Oh," Donnie said, entering the room. Without invitation he clamored over Leo (who grunted even more and gasped from Donnie's long, lanky limbs digging into his flesh) to plop down next to Mikey, pulling his younger brother into a hug. "Bad one by the sound of it."

Leo sighed, scooting closer to the edge of his bed to compensate for the added visitor.

"Really bad," Mikey confirmed. "Dreamt a scientist dude captured us, and he sold you guys, and was going to cut my shell off as a trophy."

Mikey shuddered, shaking the whole bed. Leo grumbled under his breath, cracking open one eye and found Raph silhouetted in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning on the frame to observe his brothers. No doubt he too had heard Mikey's screams and investigated.

"That's terrible," Donnie gasped.

"I'd still be able to function without a shell, right?" Mikey asked meekly.

"Highly doubtful," Donnie said, petting Mikey around the edge of his carapace to calm him. "Our shells are basically a substitute for a spinal column. Our structure can't be supported without one. We need our shells for not only protection for our internal organs, but for our strength and maintain our center of gravity, not to mention..."

"Donnie?" Leo groused, sleepily elbowing the talkative turtle. " **Not** helping."

"Sorry," Donnie muttered, tucking Mikey closer to ward off his fear. "But such a thing will never happen. We won't allow it. We love you, Mikey. We won't let anyone hurt you."

"You'll protect me?" Mikey asked, taking comfort in the fact he wasn't alone. He was never alone. His brothers would always be there. "You'll never leave me?"

"Never," Donnie reiterated.

"Stuck with us," Leo muttered, trying to drift back to sleep. His attempt at rest was thwarted when he felt his bed shift again. This time, there was a massive shell in front of him, cutting into his arm as Raph sat on the edge of the bed and backed himself up to make room for his bulk. Compressed, Leo shifted back on Donnie, who in turn, squashed Mikey into the wall.

Raph laid down, taking up sentry for his brothers. "Anyone bothers you, has to get through us first."

"Absolutely!" Donnie added.

Leo offered a low groan of agreement, shifting a little to find a comfortable spot. He was seriously going to invest in a larger bed. His current one was far too small to hold four 6ft tall turtles. Donnie's bony knee was crammed into Leo's tail, causing him no uncertain amount of pain and discomfort. It took some time, but after a minute, Leo found a comfortable position and settled down.

Mikey's small, timid voice came from the cramped space next to the wall. "Thanks, bros. Love you."

"Love you, too," Donnie sighed in the dark.

Leo and Raph offered low growls as a sign of their affection.

Mikey drifted off to sleep, knowing his dreams (and shell), were well protected from monsters by three big brothers.


End file.
